Faerie Stories
by codenamelily
Summary: Once upon a time...


**Title:** Faerie Stories  
**Author:** codenamelily  
**Pairing:** Tom Riddle/Minerva McGonagall (sort of)  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre:** Drama  
**Warnings:** sexual situations, some content may be slightly disturbing  
**Word Count:** 8,000  
**Summary:** _Once upon a time…_  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own it.  
**Author's notes:** Written for vivien529 in the riddlegifts exchange on LJ. I'm pretty proud of this piece. Feedback is love! 

----

"You know how it starts! Once upon a time…"

"Hush, boy."

"Please, Mrs. Cole, just one more story!"

"Once upon a time there was a little boy called Tom and he didn't listen to his matron when she said it was time for bed and a dragon came and swallowed him whole."

"Was the matron a witch?"

"Hush, boy, and to bed with you! This is the last time I'm telling you."

"Just one more faerie story? Please?"

"Do you want the stick?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then to bed. Now!"

And so begins the story of a little boy called Tom.

----

_Once upon a time, there lived a very poor woodcutter in a tiny cottage in   
the forest with his two children, Hansel and Gretel. His second wife often  
ill-treated the children and was forever nagging the woodcutter. "There is not enough food in the house for us all. There are too many mouths to feed! We must get rid of the two brats." And she kept on trying to persuade her husband to abandon his children in the forest._

----

Once upon a time, there was a young boy who lived in an orphanage. This young boy's name was Tom, as you may have well guessed, and he loved faerie tales. He loved the action, the adventure, and even a bit of the romance. But what he loved most of all was that the heroes of his faerie stories were almost always children like him – poor children that were worthless in the eyes of most, but would do great things given the chance.

Tom knew that given the chance, he could do great things, too. He could be special. It is for that reason that we begin Tom's story the same way all faerie stories do, with _once upon a time_. So.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, our young hero Tom was living in the orphanage he had lived in all his life. Young Tom was not quite twelve at the time, but he did not go to school like other boys his age. Instead, he worked as hard as he could in the orphanage, scrubbing floors and mopping corridors and hauling rubbish to the curb. Tom hated to do the work he did but he had no other choice – even though things were slightly better than they had been the past few years, the orphanage still didn't have enough money to hire people to scrub and mop and haul rubbish. Besides, the orphanage's matron hated Tom because he seemed different from everybody else, and so made him do the most work.

Tom was sure that the old matron hated him so much that she would send him away one day. The only reason he hadn't been forced out yet, Tom decided, was because the old matron's assistant didn't hate him quite so much and had the undeniable misfortune of having too forgiving a heart. However, after spending one long, hard day of scrubbing the boy's lavatory, Tom had the idea that maybe being sent away from the orphanage wouldn't be so bad. After all, he reasoned, all the children in the faerie stories he read as a child only got to do great things after they had been sent away. And so Tom set out to do his best to be sent away from the orphanage.

One day, in the summer when Tom was eleven, the old matron's assistant was pacing the hallway outside the boy's dormitory when she heard a strangled yell come from within. In an instant she had whirled around and pushed open the door, focusing on the source of the yell. A young boy was pointing and staring, horrified, at the ceiling rafters, where the assistant saw a furry shape swaying ever-so-slightly. 

"'at's my rabbit!" cried the boy, his voice thick with tears and his face thick with snot. "'e's hangin'!"

"Who did this?" screeched the assistant, grabbing the boy and shielding his eyes from the sight. "One of you knows. Who?"

"'Twas Tom," sobbed the boy. "'e got mad at me today."

The assistant pulled the sobbing boy from the room and ordered an older boy to watch him, then rushed to find the matron. The matron yelled, as she normally did, and yelled some more, then ordered the assistant to find Tom and bring him to her. The assistant searched the orphanage and finally found Tom outside, sitting quietly on the back steps and reading a book. She grabbed him by the earlobe without a word and dragged the young boy into the matron's office.

"How could you?" the matron shrieked. "Whatever the fight was about, surely it didn't warrant murdering another boy's pet!"

"Murder?" Tom said, rubbing his ear and blinking. "I didn't murder anything."

"You most certainly did, you ruddy child. Poor Billy's rabbit is hanging from the rafters."

"Ma'am, I did not hang Billy's rabbit. I've been reading all afternoon."

"Well, it didn't hang _itself_ from the rafters, now, did it?"

"Not at all. But how could I have gotten up there?"

The matron fell into a bursting silence and her great face seemed to swell with anger. "Out," she sputtered finally. "Get out."

As Tom walked down the corridor, out toward the back steps, he was certain that the old matron would do all in her power to send him away. He settled himself on the steps and opened his book.

A week later, Tom met a man who claimed to be a professor from a magical school came to tell Tom that he was to be sent to a place to learn to control his abilities. How he knew about the abilities, Tom didn't know, but finally he knew it was his chance to do something great.

----

_Once upon a time there lived a little cow-boy, without either father or mother. He was called the Star Gazer, because when he drove his cows over the commons to seek for pasture, he went along with his head in the air, gaping at nothing._

As he was a handsome boy, the village girls used to cry after him, Well, Star Gazer, what are you doing?' and he would answer, Oh, nothing,' and go on his way without even turning to look at them.

The fact was he thought them very ugly, with their sun-burnt necks, their great red hands, their coarse petticoats and their wooden shoes. He had heard that somewhere in the world there were girls whose necks were white and whose hands were small, who were always dressed in the finest silks and laces, and were called princesses, and while his companions round the fire saw nothing in the flames but common everyday fancies, he dreamed that he had the happiness to marry a princess.

----

_'The Blitz' Continues!___

The death toll continues to rise as the bombings conducted by Adolf Hitler fall upon London. Yesterday's attacks have resulted in an estimated 600 dead and thousands injured, with that estimate expected to rise as rubble is cleared. Citizens are again urged to remain vigilant at all times. Air raid sirens may be heard at any time, so citizens are reminded to be aware of any safe spots in which to seek shelter… (Continued on A4)

_Grindelwald's Plan to Rid the World of Muggles___

The Dark Lord Grindelwald, known to Muggles as German ruler Adolf Hitler, has released another ambiguous message to the wizarding population. In it, he urges his followers to remember that every war has casualties and that the current 'Blitzkrieg' in London is necessary in order to convey fear amongst the Muggles.

Grindelwald's plan to annihilate all Muggles was recently leaked to the press, as reported by the Prophet last week. This plan includes pitting Muggle against Muggle in what is being referred to as a 'World War' by Grindelwald. His plans so far include the Blitzkrieg on London and other parts of the United Kingdom, general Muggle warfare, and the eradication of the Muggle population by slowly killing off specific groups in a meticulous and organized way, beginning with the Jewish (a religious group of Muggles).

Grindelwald's followers, whom he refers to as his 'knights,' have been terrorizing various groups at what seem to be random intervals. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Caradoc Deverill, has issued the following statement yesterday evening: … (continued on page 5)

----

"…beautiful new dress robes, don't you agree, Tom?"

Our young hero, Tom, barely looked up from his book as he nodded at Walburga Black. Now a handsome boy of fourteen, Tom was in his spring semester of his third year at a magical school called Hogwarts. The aforementioned Walburga was a fourth year girl in the same house as him, Slytherin.

It was no secret that Walburga found Tom highly attractive. Everyone knew it, and Walburga was completely determined to entrance Tom into loving her best. Tom, however, seemed completely uninterested. Most of the time, he had his nose in a book, and the rest of the time he stared hard at the fire in the grate, thinking.

It was not that Tom wasn't interested in girls; like every young boy, his mind traveled to the thoughts of a number of young ladies. However, he managed to tear his mind away from those thoughts often enough to ponder something he had been pondering since his second year: the fabled Chamber of Secrets.

You see, even though there were a number of people with abilities similar to Tom's, he could do some things that no one else could, and could do most things better than anyone else could. One of the things Tom could do was talk to snakes, and he had learned quickly that this particular ability was a trait of a highly powerful wizard – the great Salazar Slytherin. The year before, Tom had learned that Slytherin had created a chamber somewhere within the castle that contained a beast which would purge the school of the impure and that only his true heir could control.

It only took a short time for Tom to figure out that the beast must be some sort of snake, and that he must be somehow connected to the great wizard because of his ability. Since then, he had asked every teacher and poured over every book trying to discover a clue as to where the chamber could be.

As of late, he had been more and more concerned with finding the Chamber. Each day in the paper there was more news of Grindelwald and his plans to eliminate all the Muggles. Each day, Tom read of all the Muggles in London who had been killed by the Blitz and dreamed that one of them would be the dreaded matron of the orphanage he had to return to each summer. For rather than being frightened of Tom, as she should be, she made him work harder than ever before. When he didn't finish his work (which was often, as she gave him too many chores to finish in a single day), she would lock him in a room and refuse to send him dinner, which was the only meal he was ever allowed to eat.

Despite being starved over the summer, Tom was a handsome boy. He stayed quiet much of the time, leading many of the girls to dream of how he must be behind his mysterious façade. 

It had been only recently that Tom had noticed one girl in particular – a fifth year Gryffindor by the name of Minerva. He had seen her one evening in the library, where she was tutoring a younger student, and was immediately drawn to her.

Minerva was different from the other girls at the school, Tom had decided. Of course, she was older, and much less obsessed with her own looks. Most noticeably, she didn't seem to put up with the gossip and immaturity that the other girls did. It was for that reason that she seemed to be the only girl who wouldn't swoon over him, and that gave him the challenge of impressing her. He wanted nothing more than for Minerva to realize just how brilliant he was, wanted nothing more than for the two of them to be close. Of all the people Tom had ever met, Minerva was the first person he wanted to have as an acquaintance. Perhaps as even a friend. Tom did not make friends easily. He charmed people easily, found people who would do anything for him, but he did not befriend people. Minerva was the exception.

Of course, the fact that she was a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin caused a slight problem. Tom knew, however, that she was a pureblood and therefore probably just misguided. The Gryffindors were a terrible bunch, but he supposed there could be an exception, and that exception was Minerva.

He dreamed that perhaps if he found the Chamber of Secrets, Minerva would realise just how clever he was and swoon into his arms as all the other girls wished to do. Only, she wouldn't swoon, Tom knew, because she was much too practical for that, and that was why he adored her. She would probably take his hand and kiss him, smiling that shy smile…

With the image of a smiling Minerva planted firmly in his mind, Tom set to work harder than ever to discover the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

----

_Once upon a time there was a mighty wizard who knew all kinds of magic. He could charm and hex and do any kind of magic he wanted. One day he met the most beautiful princess in the world, who was coveted by all the men in the kingdom and loved especially by one who had once offended the wizard. Because the wizard was an evil man, he decided to use the princess to gain vengeance on the one who had offended him. He started visiting her in secret, and soon she fell in love with him, and would do anything he asked of her because she loved him so._

----

"What is it, Riddle?"

"I thought perhaps you could help me. I can't seem to get my student to understand the concept of…"

"First, they're not called your 'students.' They just need a little extra tutoring. Second, if you just stopped snapping at them and actually tried to help, perhaps they would respond better."

"I don't snap at them."

"You most certainly do. I've had nearly all of the people you've 'helped' come to me in tears after you're through with them. You're a fifth year, not a teacher, and you need to act that way."

"Some of them are positive idiots, though."

"They're not idiots. They just need some help. Do you think you might not be cut out for this kind of club? Perhaps you should join Gobstones."

"I'm not joining Gobstones, and I'm not giving up on this. Thank you for your help, Minerva."

Tom walked slowly back to the table in the back of the library, where a third year Slytherin sat with her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry I don't understand," she said quietly when he reached the table. Tom took a shallow breath and swallowed, determined not to let his anger at Minerva's insults ruin his chances of showing her that he could be a good tutor. After all, he had joined this club to impress her.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, resisting the urge to tell her to sit up and act like a real Slytherin. "Why don't we try again?"

For the next hour, Tom slowly re-explained the lesson to the young girl, glancing up only once to see Minerva watching him with stern eyes. He returned the gaze, raised an eyebrow, and went back to helping the younger girl.

The girl left with a smile on her face, and Tom watched as she rushed past Minerva. Fully expecting her to turn and look pleasantly surprised, Tom clenched his teeth as Minerva took no notice, only gathering her books and rushing out of the library.

He steamed for a moment before gathering his own books and following her, adjusting his Prefect badge as to avoid any questions about curfew. She was walking quickly, too quickly to be merely heading back to her common room, Tom decided, and in the wrong direction. He quickened his own pace, maintaining a fairly inconspicuous following distance. By the time she was on the second floor, she was nearly running.

Suddenly, she stopped, and with a quick wave of her wand fixed her hair and nervously patted her robes. Tom ducked into a small alcove in the wall and peered at her as she stood in the hallway expectantly.

A nearby door opened without warning, and Tom jumped. The Transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore, walked out.

"Good evening, Professor!" cried Minerva, her face flushing a brilliant red.

"Good evening, Miss McGonagall," the professor replied. He walked down the corridor and Tom watched as Minerva's eyes followed him, watched as her lips curled into the shy smile he wished she would smile for him, and watched as she walked away in the other direction.

He leaned against the alcove's wall and closed his eyes. Of course she wouldn't find Tom handsome, if she was swooning like the schoolgirl she was over a Professor! Tom felt a surge of anger at the thought of Minerva liking Dumbledore. He was, after all, old, and a complete codger! The man didn't treat Tom like all the other teachers. The other teachers all loved Tom, all let him get away with a little too much, because after all he _was_ an orphan. And brilliant. Tom knew he was brilliant. Dumbledore, unfortunately, seemed to think Tom was too brilliant for his own good.

And Minerva! Liking the old fool! Well, not so much a fool, Tom reasoned. He is fairly brilliant. Brilliant enough for Minerva to develop some sort of affection for him. Brilliant enough…

Tom opened his eyes. Brilliant enough to _make_ Minerva develop some sort of affection for him!

"How very Slytherin," murmured Tom, carefully weighing the idea. He moved out of the alcove and began to walk slowly towards the Slytherin dormitories. Dumbledore must have charmed her in some way, and not in the innocent way that Tom always did. He must have put a love spell on her. Most likely to simply infuriate Tom.

Well, it simply would not stand. Tom _would_ have Minerva, whether that fool Dumbledore liked it or not. 

----

_Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, the king and queen were blessed with a beautiful baby girl, and throughout the land everyone was happy. Shortly after the girl's birth, the king offended a most powerful wizard and the kingdom was put under a most horrid spell. Desperate to protect their daughter, the king and queen sought the help of a fairy godmother, who had them lock the young princess away in a tower guarded by a dragon, there to await the kiss of the handsome Prince Charming. It was he who would chance the perilous journey through blistering cold and scorching desert, traveling for many days and nights, for he was the bravest, and most handsome in all the land, and it was destiny that his sword would slay the evil dragon and his kiss would break the dreaded curse._

----

"Please, sir. Professor Dippet said I could apprentice under you with your permission."

"I'm sorry, Miss McGonagall, but it is far too dangerous for you to be at the school at this time."

"I'm not afraid of the Chamber, or the monster."

"I never said you were, my dear, but if you apprenticed under me, I would be responsible for your safety. I do not wish to put you in any situation where you would fall into danger, and as the school is not safe…"

"Well then, what am I to do?"

"Surely there is another apprenticeship you may take?"

"Not one that I'm interested in. They all begin with things I've known since fifth year, and I'd prefer not to waste my time with what I already know."

"Efficient as always, Miss McGonagall."

"Yes, sir. Please, I've never been interested in any subject as I am with Transfiguration. My mother said if I don't find an apprenticeship soon, she'll find me a job at the Ministry. I can't work at the Ministry, Professor!"

"Indeed. That would be a waste of your talent."

"I could help so much! I could tutor the younger students, just like I used to. Only, better now, of course."

"I'll see, Miss McGonagall. Give me a few days to think this over. My only worry is about the attacks."

"They'll stop soon. I'm sure of it."

"I wish I was so sure, myself. Well, you best be heading home. You may use the floo in my office."

"No thank you, sir. I'm staying in Hogsmeade. I'll walk."

"Very well. I'll be in touch with you soon, Miss McGonagall."

"Good night, sir."

Tom hurriedly straightened up. It was the perfect opportunity to make Minerva his. He was certain that the plan he had been forming would work perfectly, and without a second thought he walked around the corner.

"Minerva! What brings you back here?" he greeted, his voice quiet with surprise. He turned to Dumbledore. "Good evening, Professor."

"Good evening, Mr. Riddle. I would show you out, Miss McGonagall, but I trust you know the way and I do have some marking to do. Good night."

Tom watched as Dumbledore left, then turned to Minerva, who was watching him closely.

"You never answered me," he said.

"Were you listening to our conversation?" she snapped.

Tom faked a look of confusion. "Why would I do that? I'm just patrolling, Minerva. You know-" he tapped his badge, "-prefect duty."

"You can't fool me, Riddle," she said, fixing a stony gaze on him. "Why were you eavesdropping?"

Tom shook his head. "I wasn't eavesdropping," he replied quietly. "I heard voices and came to see what was going on. I didn't hear anything but what you were saying as I came around the corner." He turned away and began walking down the corridor. If he knew Minerva (which he slightly did; he knew she was a Gryffindor, and that was enough), she would follow. "I apologize, Minerva. I just wanted to say hello. Good evening."

He could feel her eyes following him as he walked away, and held back a smile. She wasn't a Gryffindor for no reason, after all – she would feel bad for offending him, and wouldn't allow herself to walk away without resolving the matter.

Her footsteps caught up with him as he was passing a rather moth-eaten tapestry. "Riddle, wait."

"I already apologized, Minerva." He pressed his smile back even more firmly before glancing over his shoulder. "I won't bother you again."

She reached out and grabbed his arm. "Don't apologize," she muttered gruffly. "It's my fault. I… well, you know. I mean…"

"I'm a Slytherin," he filled in, flicking his eyes away from her. "I didn't know things like that mattered to you."

Her face flushed, as he expected. "That's not it."

"Well, it can't be that I'm too young. I came of age in December."

"It's not any of that. We just never got along, Riddle."

"I tried," he said, pulling back his arm. "I wanted to impress you. Suppose it didn't work, did it?" He shook his head and began walking again. "I thought we were quite similar, you know."

"You did?"

"You sound surprised. I thought it was quite obvious."

"Well, not really. You _are_ a Slytherin."

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. "Like I said, I didn't know that mattered to you. I just thought that you were intelligent and… well, I suppose it doesn't matter."

She stopped him again. "It does matter. I didn't know… well, I didn't know you were this deep, Riddle. It's rather surprising. I just always thought you were the typical, manipulative Slytherin."

More than you'll ever know, he thought. "I've never been particularly typical," he said. "So, you never answered my question."

"What question?"

"What brought you back here?"

Minerva smiled and began to walk with him. "I want to apprentice under Professor Dumbledore," she replied. "I want to be a master of Transfiguration."

"You're already fairly good," he offered.

"You flatter. But thank you."

"It's not flattery, it's truth. But you want to come back, even with all the attacks?"

"I'm not worried," she stated defiantly. "They won't last long. And if it's true what they say, about the Chamber of Secrets, then I'm… well, safe."

"You're pureblood."

"Yes, but…"

"It's okay, I know. It's okay to admit it. It's for protection. But anyway, I don't understand why you'd want to apprentice under Dumbledore." He watched her out of the corner of her eye as he spoke.

"He's a brilliant man. The best there is. What other reason would I need?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you have feelings for him?"

She stopped and glared at him. "That's ridiculous, Riddle."

"Not quite so."

"How dare you even imply that? It's not proper!"

Tom met her gaze fiercely, just as he imagined he would. "I know you did. Last year."

Her face went crimson. "That's preposterous. Absolutely insane. What are you trying to do, blackmail me? I never…"

"You did, and don't deny it. You spent so much time wanting to be with him that… well, never mind." He turned and briskly moved down the corridor, knowing that she would follow once again.

"That what? That _what_, Riddle?!"

He didn't answer, even as her footsteps quickened to catch up with him. To make this work, he told himself, he had to keep control. He had to stick to his plan.

"Tell me. That _what_?"

He turned towards her as she reached to grab him again, catching her off guard as he moved forward. "That you couldn't see that _I_ wanted to be with you." He stood close to her, looking down at her with the most intense gaze he could manage. "You were so busy applying preconceptions to me and acting like a misty-eyed schoolgirl towards him that you failed to realize that there were people much closer trying to catch your eye." He drew a breath that he hoped was shaky enough to be convincing and stepped back from her. "I apologize, McGonagall," he whispered. "I… I think I should go."

This time she did not follow, just as he knew she wouldn't. He didn't stop his brisk pace until he was on the next floor, staring out a window toward the gates. He could see her below the castle, walking slowly, and he smiled. She was thinking about him, and she wouldn't stop until she could confront him again.

Tom was proud, exceptionally proud. He'd had cunning ideas before, but this! The emotion, the manipulation, the plan folding out so perfectly! What better way to gain her attention? The next step, he knew, was to gain her affection, but he knew he would find a way.

She had exited the gates and was nothing more than a dot in the distance when he began walking again. Ensuring there was no one following him, he made his way to the entrance of the Chamber. He couldn't open it tonight – not until Minerva was given her apprenticeship – but he wanted to celebrate. Perhaps he would watch it feed. It did not matter.

----

"Riddle."

Tom looked up to see Minerva standing in front of his table at the library.

"What a surprise," he stated quietly. It was true; he had not expected her to return to Hogwarts only three days later. No matter. He was prepared enough. "Can I help you, McGonagall?"

She sat across from him, moving a stack of books in order to rest her hands on the table. "I'm sorry," she said, staring firmly at the books. "About the preconceptions. And everything else. Really, I misjudged you."

"No matter." He returned to making notes on his parchment. "I apologize for putting you in this situation."

They were silent for a few minutes, and Tom began to get nervous. She was supposed to be embarrassed, but put it aside and say that she wanted a chance. He began formulating a second plan, should she surprise him again.

"I got the apprenticeship," she finally said.

"Congratulations."

"I'll be staying at the castle again. Tutoring. And helping Dumbledore with lessons."

"He hasn't asked you to refer to him as 'Albus' yet?"

She sniffed in annoyance. "I'm trying to make an effort, Riddle." He did not respond. "Well, I was going to suggest we talk more often, but if you're going to be this way then I don't think I want to."

"As you wish," he replied, still writing on the parchment.

"That's not what you're supposed to say!" she huffed.

Tom finally looked up at her. "What am I supposed to say, then?" he asked, his voice controlled. "I tried to make an effort for years and you were never interested. I tried to talk to you all the time, and you would find excuses to rush away. Why is it suddenly on your terms? Why do you suddenly want to talk? Is it because you can't have him? Or is it pity?"

"It's none of that!" she answered vehemently. "I already apologized. What else do you expect?"

"I expect nothing," he said coldly, standing up and collecting his books. "You've made that perfectly clear, from the first day I met you." He turned and made his way quickly out of the library.

"Riddle!" he heard her cry. He quickened his pace, wanting to see her face flushed and flustered.

She had to run up the marble staircase to catch up with him. "Riddle, please wait," she panted. "I was thinking."

"You're always thinking," he replied, turning around. She was leaning against the banister, breathing heavily through her mouth.

"Well, I was thinking about _you_," she said. "And I was thinking that you were right."

"About what?" he asked, unable to keep the legitimate shock out of his voice. He hadn't expected her to concede this quickly. Again he began to re-formulate his plan.

"About us being similar. And about… about my…" she cleared her throat. "About my affection. But that was nothing. I don't feel that way now."

"How do you feel now?" he dared to question.

"I feel like I should give you a chance," she answered. "You're not what I thought you were, at all. You're a lot smarter."

He couldn't help but smile slightly. "Not all Slytherins are ignorant prats."

She smiled back, looking relieved. "I suppose not."

"I'm not quite sure what to do now."

"Neither am I. Would you still be willing to 'be with me,' as you put it?"

"I'd have to be insane not to."

"Are you insane?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well then, it's settled, I suppose."

"It would seem, wouldn't it?"

She pushed her hair off her face and stepped toward him. "Are we going to stand here exchanging small talk? I thought you weren't an ignorant prat."

Tom shrugged and shifted his bookbag. "I'm not sure what you'd like me to say. We could talk politics but I've just written a paper for Binns and if you're really interested, you could just read it."

"You're so absolutely witty."

"You're absolutely sarcastic."

"I thought we weren't exchanging small talk."

"You still haven't told me what you'd like me to say."

"Well, what do people usually say in these situations?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Perhaps you should just kiss me, then."

"Rather forward of you."

"Are you saying you don't want to, Riddle?"

"Not at all. Just a social commentary on your bluntness. Incidentally, I have a feeling this would all work better if you didn't call me by my surname."

"Yes, well, this would all work better if you weren't a Slytherin, yet here we are." She took another step toward him. "I can't say I don't want you to kiss me."

"If you're certain," Tom replied.

"Most certain," she said, taking a last step towards him. Tom could hardly believe how easy it had been, how well his plan had worked, but he did not stop to think of it at the moment. What mattered was that Minerva was closing her eyes and allowing him to touch her chin, to tilt it up towards him, and to kiss her. He did it tentatively, half-expecting her to pull away and slap him, but when she didn't he allowed himself to move closer and kiss her harder. Her hands went to his shoulders, resting lightly against him, and he moved his own hand to cup her cheek.

She pulled away a few moments later, letting her eyes flutter open girlishly.

"You've never been kissed before, have you, Riddle?"

He flushed and moved away from her. "I should be going," he muttered, embarrassed.

"Don't go!" Minerva chuckled. "I didn't mean it as an offense."

"Well, was it terrible?"

"Absolutely not. I was just curious. Did you think it was terrible?"

He shook his head. "I haven't much to compare it to, though."

Minerva reached out and touched his arm. "Neither have I. It's alright." She smiled at him shyly, and Tom studied her face, willing himself to remember every detail of her shy smile.

"Mr. Riddle, Miss McGonagall!" A sudden voice startled them, and Tom turned to see Slughorn, the Potions master, lumbering towards them.

"Good evening, Professor," Tom and Minerva greeted in unison. Minerva blushed slightly and stepped away from Tom.

"Oho!" exclaimed Slughorn, grinning at them knowingly. "I'll pretend I never saw this, shall I, but you should head off to bed, Mr. Riddle, if you're not patrolling."

"Yes, sir," said Tom. He glanced coyly at Mineva. "Good night, Minerva, Professor."

"Good night, Tom," replied Minerva, grinning at him.

"Yes, yes, good night, my boy. You should head off as well, Miss McGonagall!"

Tom turned down the next corridor, hearing Slughorn's voice fade as he presumably walked Minerva back to her quarters. He couldn't help but grin. Things could not have gone better, he decided. An unusual feeling was present as he walked. Tom decided it must be the feeling one gets when one has a friend.

He passed the location of the entrance to the Chamber and paused, debating whether or not to let the beast inside out. It was safe, he decided, now that Minerva was at the school. He felt guilty for a moment, knowing that she would most likely disapprove of his involvement in the attacks, but she did not fully understand yet. She would, in time. Grindelwald was growing ever more powerful, and those who opposed him were doomed. Each day, the papers announced more casualties and killings, and more people switching to Grindelwald's side. Tom knew that the wizard would eventually win, if things continued as they did, and it was probably best to stay on his good side. Therefore, the Chamber must be used, he reasoned, for if Grindelwald ever found out that such a resource had been at Tom's disposal and not been used, he would be dead.

Tom entered the room and opened the Chamber, calling forth the beast. "Go," he told it. "Go forth, but do not harm any but those who do not belong."

The beast hissed in response and Tom felt it slide past him. He felt guilty for a moment, but shook it off. Minerva would understand in time.

----

It was less than a month later when she came running up to him in the library.

"Someone's been killed," gasped Minerva. Tom snapped his head up from his books.

"Killed?" he repeated. She nodded her head. "How?"

"By the monster," she cried. "The Chamber. Tom…" She collapsed in the chair across from him and hung her head in her hands. "A girl named Myrtle. I tutored her last year."

Tom moved to the chair next to her and awkwardly placed his hand on her back. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Did they say…?"

"Nothing," she replied. "I was working with Dumbledore when the Headmaster came in… Tom, she's _dead_. A student actually died." With that, Minerva began to cry softly.

Tom watched her, a neutral expression on his face. He had already known, of course, about the death of the girl. It had been a mistake. He hadn't known there was someone in the bathroom when he opened the Chamber. The beast had killed her before the girl even knew what it was. Tom had urged the monster back into its lair and rushed out of the room, unsure of what to do next. It was not the fact that she was dead that unsettled him; no, he had dealt with death by his hand in the past. It was that he did not plan it, that he did not know the consequences. That he hadn't been fully in control.

"Minerva…" he began, but she sniffed abruptly and raised her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just can't understand who would do such a thing."

"I don't quite know what to tell you," he replied quietly.

"It's okay," she said. "I don't know what to think. A girl's dead, Dippet said they might have to close the school, someone is responsible for all this…"

"Wait, they might have to close the school?"

Minerva nodded. "He said the Ministry was talking about it before, with all the attacks, but now that someone's actually dead…"

Tom slumped in his chair, his mind racing. Closing the school would mean he would have to go back to the orphanage. He wasn't considered of-age yet in the Muggle community. He would have to live with the hag of a matron again, and then there was the War going on. Earlier that day Grindelwald had released a statement regarding each war having its casualties on both sides, and that some sacrifice would have to be made in order to prevail. Tom certainly did not want to be one of the sacrifices, not with his mind and resources! Only a few days before, Tom had written a letter to the Headmaster asking permission to stay at Hogwarts during the summer. He had promised to do anything to stay – help on the grounds, scrub floors – anything to keep from going back to the orphanage.

"If the attacks stopped," he said suddenly, "would they keep the school open?"

Minerva turned to him slowly, tears still streaking down her cheeks. "Tom, please don't tell me you know who's doing this," she said quietly. "Please tell me _you_ have nothing to do with this."

"I don't know," he said hurriedly. "I just meant… theoretically…"

"I suppose they wouldn't," Minerva pondered. She touched his hand. "I don't know, Tom. There'd be arrangements made, though, I'm sure."

"It's not that," he replied. "I wanted to stay here this summer."

"Why would you want to stay?"

He shrugged. "I don't like the orphanage. I thought, maybe if I could stay here instead…"

"I'd have to go back home," Minerva realized. "I'd need a job." The pair fell silent for a few minutes.

"Maybe they won't close it," Tom finally said. "I'll… I'll ask Dippet. I asked him to stay, and I'm sure he'll want to talk to me. Maybe they'll keep it open."

"Maybe," Minerva said doubtfully. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands. "I can't believe it."

"Nor can I," agreed Tom. Though, he added in his mind, for very different reasons. He began to slowly collect his books. "Minerva, I think I'm going to turn in."

"Good idea," she agreed, standing up. "I think so too. It's been a difficult day." She leaned over and kissed him firmly. "Good night."

He watched her leave the library, then finished collecting his things and left behind her. Slowly, he made his way down to the dungeons, his jaw set as he stared forward in thought. It wasn't until he had nearly bumped straight into him that Tom saw Rubeus Hagrid.

"You're past curfew," said Tom. "Five points from… what is it, Gryffindor?"

"Yeh," said Hagrid. The massive youth did not move, however.

"This is usually the point at which you head back to your dorm," Tom suggested coldly.

"I… eh… I can'," replied Hagrid uneasily.

"You most certainly can, and you will. I am not in the mood to deal with impertinence." Hagrid shifted apprehensively. "Move, Hagrid, or I will not bother finding your head of house and simply hex you."

Hagrid sighed and moved out of the way. Tom's eyes widened as he saw what was hidden behind the giant. He stared for a few moments before fixing his gaze on Hagrid.

"I know wha' it looks like, but it weren' me, yeh know it weren' me, Riddle!" Hagrid blurted. "He wouldn' kill anyone, he didn'!"

Tom stared at the creature wordlessly.

"Go to bed, Hagrid," he finally said. "Hide that… that _thing_, and go to bed."

He walked away quickly, weighing the possibilities of his newfound knowledge. He would wait, he decided, for the opportune moment to use it.

----

"It wasn't Hagrid."

"He had a monster, Minerva. I've seen it."

"You know as well as anyone that Hagrid would never keep anything that dangerous. He got expelled, Tom! You should have seen his face…"

"I expect it was terrible."

"It was. It was awful. And it couldn't have been Hagrid. It's just not possible."

Tom sat back on the chaise in Minerva's quarters, displeased at how the situation was turning out. Minerva was not reacting to the news in the way he wanted her to. "Who else, then? Who else had a dangerous monster at the exact same time?"

"Don't be a prat. Have you considered the fact that the legend of the Chamber states that only the heir of Slytherin can open it? Who in their right mind would suspect Hagrid of being the heir of Slytherin?" She was pacing back and forth in front of him, her normally rigidly-pulled-back hair flying out of its updo.

"I don't know," answered Tom. "Maybe the legend is wrong. I just reported what I saw."

Minerva stopped and studied him. "Are you able to stay over the summer now?"

Tom stood up. "Would that matter to you?"

"Yes, it would," she shot back. "Suddenly you find out that the school might close and you can't stay for the summer, and then it's you who finds the one 'responsible' for the attacks?"

"You don't trust me," Tom stated quietly.

"Maybe I don't," she said defiantly.

Tom shook his head and tried to ignore the fact that his stomach was sinking to his toes. "I never gave you a reason not to trust me," he said. "I did what I thought was right. I turned in Hagrid because he had a monster and, logically, he was responsible for the attacks." He began to move to the door. "I did the right thing, Minerva. I just wish you could see that."

His hand was on the doorknob and half-turned before she stopped him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just can't believe it was him. Of all people, how could it be Hagrid?" She grabbed his hand and led him back to the chaise, settling herself next to him. "He's so nice. Mislead, of course, but he's so kind."

Tom pulled Minerva closer to him. "I don't think he meant for it to happen," he comforted. "I think things just got out of control."

"You're probably right," Minerva replied. "I just don't know what to think. Did you know Grindelwald knew about the monster?"

"He knew? How? And how do you know?" Tom asked.

"Dumbledore told me. He released a statement that'll be in tomorrow's Prophet. Said he wanted to give his personal thanks to whoever was doing their part in the 'fight against the wicked.' He's insane, that one."

Tom felt a surge of pride at the words. "Do you ever think that maybe he's right?" he asked cautiously. Minerva sat straight up.

"Don't you even joke about that, Tom Riddle!" she exclaimed.

"I just meant that he's trying to get payback for the things done to us," Tom explained hurriedly. "Isn't that at least a little bit right? An eye for an eye?"

"It absolutely isn't," she replied. "Why would you think that?"

Tom shrugged, feeling guilty. "I'm just insane, I suppose. I apologize."

She straightened up to kiss him. "That's alright," she murmured. Tom wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her gently, ignoring the fact that, for the first time in his life, he saw what he believed him as almost… well, _wrong_. She reached up and traced her fingertips along his face, sending a shiver down Tom's spine. He responded by timidly pressing his tongue against her lips, and was pleasantly surprised when she pressed her tongue back against his.

He moved his mouth away from hers to kiss her jawbone, simultaneously moving his arm to rest against her hip. Her body shifted, turning to face him, her leg resting neatly along his. His hand moved from her hip to her thigh, drawing a slow circle over the tartan material of her skirt. A soft sigh escaped from Minerva as Tom kissed down her neck, and he took it as an indication to move his other hand down from her shoulder to her breast.

She leaned into his touch for a moment, and Tom's arousal grew at the feel of her blouse taut against her breast and her nipple hardening underneath his palm. He nipped lightly at her neck and she gasped, then responded by letting one hand move from his face down his chest. She traced her fingers down the edges of his robes slowly, teasing the bottom of his dress shirt, and finally resting her hand at a tantalizing angle on his thigh.

It remained there only a moment, though; Tom began to mirror her actions but she pulled away from him with a soft breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I… I didn't mean to go so fast."

"It's not your fault," Tom replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I should probably go… It's… late." He stood up quickly and rushed towards the door, his face red.

"Tom, wait." He stopped again with his hand on the doorknob. "I don't want to make you go."

"You're not making me," he replied.

"What I meant is that I don't want you to."

He turned to see her standing in front of the chaise, her blouse unbuttoned. Instinctively, he averted his eyes from her. The guilt he had felt earlier returned to his stomach.

"I don't want you to do anything you'll regret, Minerva," he said quietly. She stepped forward quickly, and before he knew it she was touching his face again.

"I don't regret things," she told him. "I am always sure of what I'm doing."

"I don't think you're sure of this," he said, stepping against the door.

"Don't you want to do this?" she asked, her eyes slightly hurt. She reached for his hand, placing it gently against her uncovered breast.

"I do, but…"

"Then why are you stalling?" She began to kiss his neck.

"Because…"

"Tom, I want this, I really do."

"Minerva…"

"Please…"

"It wasn't Hagrid."

The words escaped Tom's mouth before he knew he had even thought them. Minerva pulled back in shock and stared at him, her mouth open.

"What?"

"It wasn't Hagrid. How could it be Hagrid? If no one has ever found the entrance to the Chamber, how do they expect Hagrid could do it?"

"What are you saying?"

"I did it. I opened the Chamber. I didn't mean to kill anyone, Minerva, I didn't, but…"

"You…"

"Yes."

"You opened it."

"Yes."

She ran towards the fireplace and had floo powder in her hand, but Tom had his wand out and Banished it from her hand. She threw the air in her hand without realizing it was gone.

"Minerva, I didn't mean to."

"Get away! Get away, you monster!"

"Please, just listen to me…"

"No!" She ran to the other side of the room to grab her wand, but Tom made it fly from her hand in an instant. Jumping forward, she found herself directly in front of him and he grabbed her wrist.

"Just listen, Minerva… I… I love you."

She slapped him so firmly that Tom's neck cracked. "Don't you _ever_ say that!" she screamed. "You monster, you… you evil…"

He pointed his wand at her and pulled her arm firmly. "Don't make me do this," he warned. "I told you because I love you."

"You don't know the meaning of the word," she spat at him. "You disgust me."

Tom felt what must only have been described as his heart breaking. "Fine," he hissed coldly. "Fine. _Obliviate._"

----

_…and though the dragon was slain, the princess died. The handsome prince did all he could to revive her, but to no avail. Some say he died of a broken heart that very day. Others say that he became a terrible sorcerer, who lured others into his lair and killed them for the mere joy of it. Whatever be the case, one thing is for certain: the prince's true soul was lost with the loss of his one true love, the only love that could have changed his ways and made him happy. So though the villagers were safe from the dragon, a new and terrible foe had risen in the form of their earlier hero, dooming them to live not-so-happily ever after._

The End


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